


Variations of the Dance

by DayenuRose



Series: Snapshots or Dick/Babs Week 2018 [6]
Category: Batgirl (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Arkham Asylum, Dancing, Dick/Babs week 2018, F/M, Fancy Dress Party, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fights, Gordon-Grayson daughter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 05:30:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17094779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DayenuRose/pseuds/DayenuRose
Summary: Plans for a pleasant evening off rarely go as planned in Gotham. Instead of taking Babs dancing, Nightwing must take care of situation at Arkham by himself. Thankfully, he has Oracle to watch his back.Meanwhile, in the ‘present,’ Dick wonders if this is really the sort of story he should be telling his daughter....Dick and Babs Week 2018Day 3: Dancing





	Variations of the Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Technically Day 3 was suppose to be Domesticity, but as I was crafting the interconnected stories, it made more sense for Dancing to come before Domesticity, so I swapped prompts. (And, since I’m running terribly late at putting these stories up, it probably doesn’t matter much anymore).

“We had big plans for the evening, and like it always seems to happen around here, our plans didn’t quite turn out as expected...” 

 

****

 

Babs ran a hand over her Empire-waist dress smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles. Dick was late. There was no reason he needed to escort her to the gala. She had planned to attend the fancy dress party regardless of the Wayne Foundation support. The fundraiser was in support of Gotham’s underfunded libraries and several literacy programs. As a former librarian and an avid reader, this was a cause she’d supported since her earliest volunteering. But, Dick had asked her to go with him, purchased the tickets, and had even arranged transportation. He’d been so sweet, so eager, she had to agree. 

Her gaze darted over to the computer. If he was going to be this late, she had work to do. 

No, she didn’t allow herself to head over and log on. The computer had an almost irresistible pull for attention. There was always work to do. Heroes to help, villains to track, and information to gather. But, she had promised to let it go for tonight. The entire world wouldn’t crumble if she spent the evening away from her computer. Or, so she hoped. 

Besides, she really did want to attend the gala with Dick. 

The proximity alarm sounded, alerting her to an approaching visitor. Dick had access codes for her apartment so he could let himself in, but bad experiences with unexpected visitors had taught her to always check who was at the door. A chill ran down her spine when she checked the front door camera and found no one there. If Dick wasn’t at the door than who was? 

Her heartbeat returned to normal when there was a knock from above and Dick—no, Nightwing—dropped gracefully from the skylight. He peeled back his mask so she could see his eyes. As he leaned in to greet her with a hug, which she turned into a kiss. He carried the scent of the autumnal night air with him. His hair and skin were still cool to the touch until the embrace had warmed him.

“Wrong costume,” she murmured when they broke too soon from the embrace.

He held her hand and traced the calluses that covered her palms and fingertips, each one familiar to his touch. His own calluses were rough against hers. “Sorry, Babs. I need to cancel, but I wanted to drop off the tickets so you could still go. I know this charity means a lot to you.” He handed her a bouquet of flowers and the envelope with the tickets. 

She stared down at the envelope. As much as she wanted to support the libraries and literacy programs with her presence, if she was being honest with herself, she really didn’t want to attend to gala alone. Even the Regency theme did little to tempt her, if she had to go alone. Over the years, she’d attended enough parties that they had long since lost their charm and the only way to guarantee an interesting evening was to spend the night in the company of someone she cared for. Besides, the tickets were already paid for, so the libraries would get their money regardless if Dick and Babs attended or not. 

“No, I’ll stay. You’re obviously working.” She gestured at the Nightwing uniform. “You’ll need support. What’s the situation?” 

Dick stepped back and put the mask back on as he returned to business mode. “Zsasz somehow managed to get out of his cell. As far as we can tell, he’s the only one who escaped. We’re not sure how he managed that yet.”

_So much for not logging on tonight_. Babs headed over to her computer. Information about Arkham already started to fill the screens. “Is he still there?”

“We don’t have any agents on the inside, so information is a bit sketchy. One of the guards managed to make a call out before the line was cut. We’re hoping the line was the only thing that was...well, cut. According to the call, Zsasz is holding the guards hostage, though he doesn’t seem to have thought through his demands very well. I’m worried that if he doesn’t get what he wants—whatever that may be—if he gets antsy, he’ll….” Dick left out the part where Zsasz kills the hostages and adds to his tally, “…well, he might consider opening the cells and letting the others out to cover his escape. If he does that, this case moves from manageable to nigh on impossible.” 

Babs nodded as she took in the facts and began the process of mentally collating and analysing the data. She slipped on her headset, ready to relay information and call plays as needed. “You’re on lead?”

“Yes. Bruce can’t get away from the gala without it being noticed and the situation can’t wait until it’s convenient for him. If I don’t show at the party…no one will care.” He stood at Babs’ shoulder and watched the live feed of the Arkham’s security cameras. They were suppose to be a secure feed, but when they were installed, Babs had made certain that Oracle had a backdoor access to the feed. 

Zsasz had gathered the guards in the cafeteria. He paced the room flipping a homemade knife between his fingers. There was no sound on the feed and Zsasz avoided directly facing the camera, so neither of the vigilantes could read his lips as he ranted and raved. Nightwing counted the guards. “One’s missing. Do you have a duty roster?”

Before he finished speaking, Babs had the roster up on another of the monitors. She paused the footage from one of the cameras. The one with the best footage of the rogue. The sleeves of his jumpsuit had been torn off revealing arms covered in scarred and scabbed hash marks. A mark for each kill. Though she’d tried, she’d never been able to match even half the marks with their corresponding victims. Too many unsolved murders. The longer she dwelled on it, the more her thoughts soured. She no longer felt like dancing. The only way to prevent more marks—more unnecessary deaths, was to stop him before he escaped the relative confines of Arkham. 

Unfortunately, it was already to late to come through the night without tragedy. Despite the black and white image, Babs pointed at what appeared to be a new oozing wound that completed a count of five. “It looks like there’s been at least one fatality.”

Nightwing’s lips pulled into a thin line. “I need to go.” 

“Be safe.” Babs squeezed his hand. 

“Don’t worry about me. I have the best backup a vigilante can have.” 

“Who might that be?” Babs mentally reviewed the schedule. Besides Bruce and Damian, none of the other Bats were in town. The Birds were too far away at the moment to be of any practical help and it had never been her place to call in the Titans. With Bruce stuck at the gala for at least a little while longer, he’d be of no help and he’d be trying to keep Damian with him as long as possible. The boy was still a bit of a loose cannon. 

“Oracle, _you’re_ my back up. With you watching my back, I’m never alone.” Nightwing squeezed her hand in return and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “I’m so sorry about tonight. I really wanted it to be perfect…”

“That’s okay, I understand. A disrupted personal life is part of what we signed up for when we became vigilantes. Go and keep our city safe.” She adjusted the earpiece on her end of the comms. 

“I’ll do my best.” His face screwed up as he swallowed back whatever else he was about to say. He was taking the missing of the gala harder than she’d expected him to. He was always complaining about attending the events when he could be spending the evening in much more pleasurable—or at least useful—pursuits. Still, it hadn’t been hard to figure out that he had something planned for the evening. Surely whatever it was, they could reschedule if for another time—like maybe sometime they weren’t in Gotham. 

Nightwing pressed a kiss to the top of her head and lingered for half a moment longer than he ought before leaping back up the way he’d entered. Looking down on her from the skylight before heading back out into the night, he said, “I love you.”

Oracle followed his progress on her screens. From its place beside the Batgirl plushie, she picked up the Nightwing one and cradled it with both hands. She pressed it to her face and waited. When the real Nightwing was several rooftops away, she responded with a soft whisper into the doll, which the comms still picked up, “I love you too, Boy Wonder.” 

 

Arkham was never silent. The inmates’ mutters, cries and screams ran through the background like a discordant white noise. It was usually loudest in the corridors that ran along the cells, but even in the administrative wing and communal areas, the noise could not as much be heard, but felt. The ghost of echoing cries followed wherever you went in the Asylum—it continued to haunt you even after you left. Nightwing strained to listen for any sound that didn’t belong as he crept through the seemingly abandoned front hall. He searched for the creak of footsteps, the shick of a knife, or the maniacal laughter of a villain about to succeed with his plan. 

The lights flickered and went out, casting the entire building in momentary darkness before the generators kicked in and the emergency lighting illuminated the corridors with a dim flickering light. It was mood lighting in all the wrong ways. What he wouldn’t give at that moment for candlelight and a rooftop picnic with the love of his life. 

Overhead, the HVAC system rattled to life. He pressed back against the wall. Between the one man escape and the power glitch, he needed to be certain this wasn’t all part of a bigger trap intended to catch a Bat or Bird. With all of Batman’s training running through his head, he tested the air quality—a little stale, but nothing to indicate that someone was using the HVAC as a carrier for toxins or knockout gas. 

He touched his comm, “Oracle, do you have eyes on the cells?”

“I do. Only one cell has been opened—Zsasz’s. From my end, the footage doesn’t appear to be looped or doctored. To be certain, I’ll need you to make a physical check of the cells.” 

“Do you want me to check now?” Nightwing took a few steps forward before he froze. The corridors were created to be free of obstacle or distraction—straight lines with no place to hide. So, when he spotted the lump on the floor about twenty feet ahead of him, he didn’t want to take any chances. The lights were too dim to see the huddled mass clearly, at the same time they were too bright to effectively use his night vision lenses. 

“Oracle...?” he whispered. 

“I see it. Give me a moment.” Oracle’s voice was clear through the comm. It almost felt like she was there with him. “It looks like he’s the missing guard. Behind him is the door to the cell corridor.” 

He left the comm open so he could converse freely with Oracle without needing to switch between channels. At least for the present, the success of tonight’s mission clearly rested on the shoulders of Nightwing and Oracle. With only the two of them on the case, it felt a bit like the old days when Batgirl and Robin patrolled the city together. He knew he could always count on her. 

“Confirmed. Uniform says his name is Mallory,” he whispered as he paused beside the body. The guard was dead and it came as no surprise that the fatal wound was caused by a blade. There was little doubt that when it came time for the autopsy, the wound would match a cut made by Zsasz’s homemade knife.

Nightwing picked the guard’s pockets, retrieving the keys that had been left behind. “Should I go onto the cafeteria or check on the cells?”

He waited out the slight pause before Oracle responded. “Leave the cells for your way out. We need you in the cafeteria. Zsasz’s mental state is deteriorating. I don’t think the guards have much time left before he gives into his compulsion and cuts them.”

“Understood.” There wasn’t time to mourn the needless loss of life. He needed to act and act now if he didn’t want the corpses to keep piling up. 

Nightwing had handled enough Arkham situations over the years that he knew his way through the asylum almost as well as he knew his way through the Batcave. The cafeteria was a large open space with more entrances than most of the communal areas in the building. There were entrances from each of the wings—both prisoner and administrative—along with the front hall, the recreation area, and two more from the kitchen. Before he decided which entrance to use, he needed to know more about what was happening inside.

He paused at the door to a maintenance closet. Unknown to everyone but the Bats, a secret panel inside the closest led to a secret corridor that would take him around to the back of the building. “The guards. Will they be a help or a hindrance?”

“Zsasz has them handcuffed to the tables. Panic has started to set in for about half of the guards. If they see you before you engage Zsasz, at least one of them will probably give away your position.” 

This came as no surprise either. It wasn’t unusual for a bystander through panic or relief to give away their rescuer’s position. Either way it tended to complicate matters. Besides, Zsasz had a nasty habit of cutting first and asking questions later when it came to using hostages as human shields or bargaining chips. Whatever strategy Nightwing decided on, he’d need to be quick. 

“Any suggestions on which door I should use?” 

“You can take the passageway to the administrative corridor and enter through that door. It comes into the cafeteria near the kitchen. The buffet carts were left out after dinner, so you can use them for coverage until you’re ready to attack.” Oracle paused as she studied the cameras and floor plans. “Do you have any charges with you? Either remote activated or on a timer?”

“Yes. Timer. Though I do have keys.” Nightwing frowned. With the keys in his possession, he wouldn’t need to blow the lock in order to enter. 

“Good, you’ll need both. Plant a charge on the cafeteria door you’re nearest to you now. You’ll use the keys on the administrative door.” 

“Ahh. Good plan. Thanks.” He set to work before she finished speaking. The explosion would serve as a distraction, allowing him to enter unnoticed. 

“I’ve got your back, Boy Wonder.” There was a twinge of longing in her words. “Always.” 

 

****

 

Dick paused from his story and gazed down at his eight-year-old daughter. She snuggled against his side, her book long forgotten. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. _What was he doing telling her stories of blood and violence?_ “Maybe we should just skip to the end of the story.” 

“Daddy. I already know that you make it through the fight okay and so did Zsasz.” She made a face at the mention of the villain that was more than a little reminiscent of her more vindictive aunt and uncles. Dick sighed; of course she knew it came out well for the principals of the story. 

Zsasz had been the villain of the month earlier in the year and Mary had been practicing her nascent eavesdropping skills for quite a bit longer than that. Besides, Dick and Babs were not as careful as they ought to be when it came to discussing ‘work around the house. 

“Please,” Mary looked up at him with a puppy dog expression that reminded him of something Steph would employ. “I want to hear how you and Mum saved the day.” 

“Okay.” Dick resigned himself to continuing. Mary wouldn’t rest until she heard the whole story, even if that meant badgering his siblings. Not that they knew the details or exactly how the evening ended. It would be better for her to hear the story from him. 

Still, Mary’s general acceptance of the vigilante life worried him. When he’d been her age, surely he wouldn’t have accepted all of this with such ease? Then again, this was the only life she’d ever known. She didn’t bat an eye when her aunt and uncles came to visit with fresh injuries after facing the villain de jour. She’d been sneaking into strategy meetings since she was five and had been training in martial arts and gymnastics since she could walk. 

“Daddy?”

Dick pushed aside his concerns; those were a matter for another day. He held her a little closer. His little girl was growing up so fast. “All right, all right. You win. Where was I?”

“You were going to break into the cafeteria at Arkham.”

“That’s right. Your Mum’s plan was sound. I waited for the explosion—it was a small one, just enough to pop the lock. Your mum gave me the signal that everyone was looking in the wrong direction and I slipped into the cafeteria from the back....”

 

****

 

Nightwing crouched low behind the buffet cart. Now cold water still sloshed in the bottom of the cavities, though the stainless steel serving trays had long since been returned to the kitchen. Zsasz stalked towards the now unlocked door, flicking his knife at no one in particular. With a kick, he forced the door open. It banged against the wall with a resounding crash. He brandished his knife at the shadows. 

All the while, he muttered to himself in angry snarls. What Nightwing could catch of the rant sounded like a mix between a list of steps he needed to accomplish and angry threats against the unnamed mastermind who’d arranged for Zsasz’s vacation from his cell. Occasionally, the monologue raised in volume as he rallied threats against everyone in hearing distance. Anything more than a pathetic whimper from the guards chained at the table was met by a vicious snarl. 

Shifting his position behind the cart, Nightwing released his eskrima from their holsters. Zsasz wasn’t much of a hand-to-hand combatant. Instead, he relied on the sharp efficiency of his knife. Before most people could blink, he could slice a vein or stab a vital organ. With a reach longer than many of his opponents and a quick hand with a knife, Zsasz could keep most attackers at bay until he was ready to end it. If the fight looked like it wouldn’t go his way, the fiend would play a game of chicken with the would-be rescuers. Before anyone could stop him, Zsasz would grab the nearest bystander and press his blade to their throat. 

Fortunately, Nightwing had several things working in his favour. He was quick and agile. When he wanted to, he made a tempting target, all the while being hard to hit. The eskrima extended his reach. It meant he didn’t need to get all that close in order to deliver a good blow to his opponent. And, if need be, he had a good aim. 

Zsasz turned from door when nothing jumped from the shadows. He ran his thumb against the blade, checking its sharpness. “Hero, I know you’re here. Show yourself.” 

So much for giving Zsasz the sap and being down with the whole misadventure. If things were ever that easy, he’d miss out on a lot less of his social life. 

“Oracle?” He spoke in a mere breath of a whisper as he checked in with her. 

One of the security cameras redirected its focus. “He’s headed for the hostages. You can meet him before he gets there, if you leave your hiding spot in three....two....one.”

Trusting her with his life, he sprang into action as the countdown reached one. Whatever Zsasz was expecting, he wasn’t expecting an attack from behind the buffet cart. Nightwing raised an eskrima, stopping an overhead blow before Zsasz realised his attack was being stymied. The knife slid along the eskrima with a noise remnant of nails on a chalkboard before skidding off nicking Nightwing’s gloved hand. The blow carried enough force to slice through the glove and cut his hand. It stung like the dickens, but he didn’t drop the eskrima. 

“Other hand!” Oracle’s warning came a second before Zsasz lashed out with a second knife. This time he’d aimed for Nightwing’s exposed stomach.

Acting on instinct, Nightwing slammed his second eskrima against the back of Zsasz’s hand. Heard under the rogue’s almost-feral scream of pain, bones crunched with the impact. The knife clattered to the ground and Nightwing kicked it out of reach. 

“You think you’re so clever,” Zsasz panted. 

“Nah.” Nightwing moved in close. It wasn’t ideal, but he needed to keep the villain’s focus on him. If given the chance, Zsasz would flee from the fight, for the easier prey of the terrified and chained guards. “I just know when to listen to the clever one.” 

And so the fight went. With her bird’s eye view of the scene, Oracle called the plays while Nightwing kept Zsasz busy. The way they worked together, it was almost like a dance, Nightwing thought. 

As the fight prolonged, Nightwing’s hand throbbed. Between the pain and the blood, it was beginning to get more difficult to hold onto the eskrima. With the skill ingrained in him to the point of instinct, he continued to fend off blow after blow. He wanted to go in for the finishing strike—to knock out the villain and end the fight—but Zsasz was quick with the blade and he aimed each attack from his good hand for a vital area on Nightwing’s body. 

From somewhere, Zsasz produced a third knife and though his hand was probably broken, he managed to grasp the blade. He wasn’t so much attacking with this knife as he was distracting the vigilante with a series of erratic slices and jabs. No one could predict where these blows would land. With Oracle’s help, Nightwing could concentrate on the random blows while she directed him where to defend from the precision attacks. 

“Backup is almost there. It’s time to end this,” Oracle said over the comm.

“Which?” Nightwing gasped as he dodged an attack that would have spilled his intestines. 

“Both Batman and GCPD are on their way. You should hear the sirens soon—Left side. ”

Nightwing turned in time to deflect a blow that would have brought the fight to an unsatisfactory end. The jab that would have sliced between his ribs and puncture a lung, tore through his upper arm instead. This time he did drop the eskrima. He doubled over low, protecting his core. 

Zsasz laughed and redoubled his efforts. “Looks like I’m going to add a hero to my tally tonight.”

“I don’t think so.” Nightwing switched from defence to offence. He stepped in and, with the force added by the motion, delivered a sharp blow to the villain’s stomach. Zsasz staggered back as he gasped for breath. 

With the added distance between them, Nightwing delivered a solid sidekick to Zsasz’s chest. The strike knocked the villain to his back. His last knife fell from his grasp and skittered out of reach. 

In quick efficient movements, Nightwing cuffed Zsasz’s hands behind his back him with zip ties. Once his hands were secure, Nightwing cuffed the rogue’s feet to keep him from running before the authorities arrived. After one last check for any additional secreted knives, the hero staggered back ready to call this a night.

From outside the asylum, the scream of police sirens echoed through the building. The agitation of the inmates increased and the screams and laughter grew louder. 

“Oracle, do you still want me to check the cells?” Nightwing began to count injuries from this evening’s work. Not as much blunt force trauma as he was accustomed to after a night of fighting, but there were more cuts than he realised.

“No. Let’s call it a night. GCPD and Batman can deal with the aftermath.” There was slight hesitation from her end of the line. “Why don’t you stop by my place instead of the Cave. I can patch you up here.”

“On my way.” Nightwing grinned despite his injuries. The drive back across town would be painful, but worth it. The timing to arrive ‘fashionably late’ at the gala had long since passed and had edged into ‘why did you even bother coming’ territory. They might be too late to attend the gala, but that didn’t mean their night had to be over. “I’ll see you soon.” 

 

Shirtless, Dick laid on Babs’ bed while she finished suturing the deepest of his wounds. She snipped the thread and examined her work. “All right, Boy Wonder, it looks like you’ll live.” 

“Ugh…” Though Dick groaned as he sat up, he grinned. “Thanks Doc. How shall I ever repay you?”

A grin slowly spread across Babs’ face. “How about a dance? Since we didn’t get to dance at the gala and we practiced…” 

“Sounds perfect.” He leaned in and kissed her, ignoring the irritation of the myriad of cuts and scrapes. 

Babs broke from the kiss and turned to rummage through her drawers. She found a clean t-shirt and sweatshirt and tossed them at Dick. “Let’s go to the roof. There’s more room up there.” 

 

It was one of those rare nights in Gotham where the sky was clear. The nearly omnipresent cloud cover peeled back from the sky and allowed the few brave stars oscillating in the sky to shine down on the city. Even on a clear night, there was too much light pollution to have a truly clear view, but it was enough for tonight. Dick rested his head on Babs’ shoulder as they sat in silence sipping tea and watching their city. For the moment, for this breath, Gotham was peaceful. 

“I have an idea.” Dick played with something he’d placed in the pocket of his borrowed hoodie when he’d gone back downstairs to make the tea. “Trust me?”

Babs nodded. Of course she trusted him. 

“May I pick you up?”

“Dick…” The protest died away before she could finish the thought. He’d asked for her to trust him. And she did, she just didn’t like relinquishing control. “Go ahead.” 

With a slight wince, he leaned down and scooped Babs out of her chair. One arm was around her back, the other under her knees. “Loop your arms around my neck.” 

She felt his heart beat as she rested her head against his shoulder. It was beating too fast for simple embrace. “Are you okay?”

Dick kissed the crown of her head. “Everything is perfect.” 

He began to hum a waltz. Not just any waltz, their waltz. It had begun as a joke. All those years ago when they were young and life seemed so much simpler. They attended the same galas, the same parties. Every time they were together, Dick would always ask her to dance. About an hour into the evening—after food was consumed and social obligations were met—the musicians would always play this particular waltz. Dick would seek her out and they’d dance. As the song came to an end, they’d sneak out of the party and explore the museum or gallery or they’d sit in the garden and talk. Once she joined their mission as Batgirl, they’d sneak out to patrol. It didn’t take long before she realised that it was Dick who requested that dance at each gala and used it as an excuse to escape with her. It’d been a long time since they’d danced like this. 

She held him close. A sense of mutual belonging passed between the couple. In this moment everything was just as it ought to be. “This is nice.” She murmured as the humming drifted into silence while the dance continued. “I wish this didn’t need to end.” 

“Why should it?” The words rumbled in his chest. 

With one arm she released her hold on him and gestured at the eastern horizon. Reds and oranges dyed the sky, making way for the blinding yellows of a new sun. “Dawn. A new day, back to the real world.”

Dick carried her across the roof and helped her sit in her chair. He knelt beside her and held both her hands in his. 

“Babs— I don’t want this to end either. I want to be with you always.”

“Dick… what are you saying?” Her own heart began to race at the same speed as his as she anticipated what was to come next. 

“I had grand plans for tonight — last night — but I suppose this is almost more appropriate, a better reflection of our lives.”

“Babs, Barbara Gordon, will you marry me?” He pulled a small box from the pocket of the hoodie and flipped it open. 

“Yes,” she said, pulling him into a kiss that greeted the morning and all the potential that moment held for the rest of their lives. 

 


End file.
